Troubled Souls
by Traive
Summary: A short story about how Lowell and Syrenne's relationship developed, and what may have happened after the war ended.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors notes: **I listened to a old favourite song of mine and this idea came to me. I have not decided if it will be more than a one shot, but I've always been fascinated by what lies behind Syrenne and Lowell's behaviour. And their background which have formed their strong personalities and stormy relationship :)

**Disclaimer:** Mistwalker owns The Last Story and all characters. I own nothing nor do I make any money on this story. I own this plot and any OC characters that may appear.

* * *

_Baby I'm still in love with…  
Everything I hate  
Everything you do  
Everything I fear  
Everything on you_

I'm in love with… Everything you are

''Everything''  
By: Anna Vissi.

* * *

**Everything I hate.**

Syrenne's eyebrow twitched once when seeing Lowell walk towards the bar. Twice when he starting his usual pick up lines and trice when his target responded. Her fingers tightened around her tankard when observing the pair standing only a few feet away. All the bustling sounds of Ariela's tavern seemed to fade as a set of angry forest green eyes followed her companion's deliberate movements.

''If you aren't careful your face might get stuck like that.'' a voice interrupted her unhealthy stalking behaviour.

''Oh, yeah? Well, who bloody cares!'' Syrenne barked back, raising the tankard to her lips, emptying its contents in a few gulps.

A tired sigh passing Dagran's lips was her only reply. She knew he only tried to keep her mind off things surrounding Lowell, but for some reason she could not help herself. She waved for Ariela to serve her another drink.

''That won't help either, I hope you are aware of that.'' Dagran observed her from his usual spot by the door. ''Drinking will only make you feel more miserable.''

''I haven't the damnedest idea what you're talking about...'' Syrenne sourly ignored him, letting her eyes fall back to her own table. Barely containing the reflex of flinching when hearing the Tsk sound that came behind her.

''I see you're still trying to find happiness at bottom of a pint, love.'' Lowell's husky voice crept down her spine, but she refused to look at him. ''If I had not been otherwise preoccupied, I'd love to show you a good time, but you know where to find me if you have a change of heart.''

Dagran muttered and face palmed at his companion's remark. He knew Lowell to be many things, but stupid was not amongst them. How these two could go on like they did was beyond him. It was clear as the sky was blue that they had feelings for each other. Though both had different reasons as to why they did not act on them.

''If I'd wanted to catch something contagious, I'd rather walk into the poor house, that way I needn't see such a sorry excuse of a man as yourself.'' Syrenne fixed him a cold look over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing at the trollop behind him. ''Go on yer merry way, you're ruining a perfectly good drink.''

The dual sword wielding mercenary's posture changed for each creak the stairs made. Her once proud and strong posture sagged for each step the pair took towards the bedroom. When the door closed accompanied by a husky moan, her facade cracked. She emptied her tankard in a few gulps while standing up. She stomped over to the bar only to snatch up a bottle of wine and paying what she owed.

''You don't need more of that, Syrenne.'' Mirania softly grabbed hold of the bottle, taking it from her friend's lips. ''Dagran is right, this will not help you!''

''Don't tell me what to do, I'm a grown woman who can do whatever I want!'' Syrenne's hand shot out, retaking the bottle before her friend could even blink. She clumsily side stepped while working on emptying it. Her usual cat like grace was absent, being dulled by the alcohol.

''That's enough!'' ordered Dagran harshly. He gave Ariela a apologetic look before forcefully removing the bottle. It crashed to the floor, scattering glass shards and wine residues on the wooden floor. His hand shot out and clasped around her wrist in a iron grip. ''You are making a fool of yourself and the rest of us. You're coming with me and not a damn word in protest, have I made myself clear?''

Syrenne's eyes widened when looking into her leader's eyes. She had thought to find anger in his hazel gaze, but found instead compassion. All she could do was to nod her head and allowing herself to be taken to the back room. Her movements clumsy and unsteady.

''Sit before you fall on your face.'' said Dagran while guiding her to a empty chair by the window. He sad down on the bed, just watching her for a few moments. ''This has to stop and you know it. I'm not one to interfere in personal affairs, but this has started to affect the whole group. Either you do something about the situation or let it be. I can't afford to let this be. During jobs it has started to be unbearable and I can't risk the safety of others because of your and Lowell's issues.

''There are no bloody issues between me and Lowell!'' snarled Syrenne fixing her gaze on her friend. Her eyes once more softened when seeing the odd look of compassion in his eyes. It was so strange seeing it there because the emotion that mostly lived there was determination. ''Don't look at me like that, mate...''

''If there are no issues then I expect you to behave impeccable starting tomorrow.'' he said calmly, giving her a pointed look.

Syrenne averted her gaze in shame. She hated her confused feelings towards Lowell and she hated herself for burdening her friends. The look of compassion in Dagran's eyes moments before had been filled with both sadness and understanding. The look was much prettier than his usual determination and fierceness. Lowell was her complete opposite in many ways, and in some ways he was her equal. From the first time she had met him and up until this very day: he had a way to creep under her skin.

Dagran on the other hand was cold while Lowell was warm. Both were good men but the complete opposite. Where her leader was closed and reserved, Lowell was open and friendly. Dagran was quick, decisive and thorough and his fierce aura demanded respect, which he also received. Lowell was a joker, gambler and easy going. Even though her leader possessed more qualities she preferred, her treacherous heart was drawn towards the ice mage. _Why in the bloody hell can't I fall for a guy like him? Why must it be a man I hate for several reasons..._

The mere thought of Lowell being upstairs between the thighs of that trollop was too much. She hated him for being the way he is. The way he always went from woman to woman, never once caring for their feelings, but at the same time always remained a thorn in her side. She also hated that he was a good friend despite all his bad habits. She hated that he was an excellent fighter, which meant she had to respect him in some regards. She feared her feelings for him which lead to hating him more because he was the reason her feelings existed in the first place.

A sound from upstairs awoke her from her depressing thoughts. It was a woman's cry, a desperate cry filled with passion. It filled Syrenne with both disgust and a longing as well as a deep sadness. For she knew what and who had coaxed forth such a sound. She lifted her gaze which once again landed on Dagran. Desperation and a need to fill a void filled her as she closed the space between them.

Her lips found his, and she ignored how he stiffened against her soft curves. One of her hands yanked his head back by fisting his dark locks. Her free hand pushed its way into his pants, her fingertips briefly coming into contact with the price she sought before being stopped by him. Syrenne groaned in frustration against his unmoving lips, trying with everything she had to coax a response from him.

''Why?...Why won't you do anything...'' Syrenne whispered with her head resting on his shoulder. The only sound she seemed to hear was the beating of her heart and his calm breathing. Tears welled in her eyes which she refused to shed as shame washed over her. She had tried to use a friend to get her to forget.

''Because I made a promise a long time ago...'' Dagran answered calmly in a hollow voice as he gently untangled himself from her. He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. ''And I want to you keep an open mind toward your non ''issues''. All is not as it seems and you should not give up so easily.''

Before she could answer he placed a hand on the small of her back, leading her towards the door. He opened it slightly, gesturing for her to follow his pointing finger. At the end of the room sat Lowell. He looked dishevelled and was steadily nursing a drink. His eyes were almost hollow, but his aura oozed of depression.

''That is not a look a man should be wearing, after indulging in passion in the arms of a woman...'' Mirania's softly spoke and slipped though the opening in the door. Her warm hand finding it's way to Syrenne's shoulder. ''You are too quick to judge a book by it's cover.''

''I'll leave her in your capable hands...'' said Dagran warmly while smiling at Mirania. ''I need to keep an eye on another.''

''I'll take it from here.'' Mirania said confidently and warmly. Her eyes twinkling with gratitude and mischief. ''Taking a bath is a wonderful way to sober up or so I've heard...''

Syrenne grabbed hold of his hand, squeezing it gently before he left. Their eyes met and he merely mouthed ''you're welcome'' before confidently striding towards the end of the tavern. When seeing the tired but grateful look on Lowell's face as Dagran joined him made her see the truth. Lowell was hurting and his behaviour was a mere mask to hide behind. He drowned his troubles in liquor and women. Seeing a glimpse of the real him in the shadows made her realize she loved everything about him, despite hating what he portrayed himself to be.

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**Would anyone be interested in more, maybe Lowell's side?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors notes: **I'm glad to present this long struggle of a chapter. I can't say me and Lowell have been buddies through the writing process. I so do prefer his lighter side, but I'm happy I did it and I'm also happy with the results, and I hope you'll enjoy it too :)

Thank you for reviewing this story of mine, it means a lot that someone enjoys what I write.

Oh, and I'm sorry if this chapter looks odd, or contains more errors than usual. I'm playing around with newly learned grammar and writing tricks, so it takes a while before I get the hang of it :P

**Disclaimer:** Mistwalker owns The Last Story and all characters. I own nothing, nor do I make any money on this story. I own this plot and any OC characters that may appear.

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_Heart, I feel distress in my heart  
But I have gone to hell for a smile  
I hear voices from the past  
Time, I only need more time_

Remember all my past time  
When the future is waiting for me  
I am lying on this ground among memories  
Can the ocean of time claim to own me?  
To own me?

_''Memories''  
By: Dark Moor._

**Between Memories and Future.**

Lowell grimaced when he stretched, feeling the aching scratch-marks adoring his back. The woman who put them there had already disappeared back to wherever she came from. The moments of passion was like always, a small respite from his misery. It was also a reminder of what he could not live without, but also what he condemned himself to never again have.

He muffled his own emotions by drowning them, along with his sorrows with alcohol. It was his only refuge after allowing himself to feel for a few precious, but stolen moments together with a stranger. In him burned a desire so strong that it had to subdued. It could not be erased nor could he ignore it, but it could be controlled. To foolishly allow himself to live in a lie for a few moments, absorbing the feelings it brought, then only to mercilessly drown the yearning which had awakened.

''You outdid yourself this time,'' Dagran's voice interrupted his moment of dark contemplation. ''One day you'll succeed in getting her to really hate you...''

''That would be for the best,'' the ice mage replied, taking yet another swing of his drink. ''that way she'd stay safe forever...''

''Syrenne, safe? You must be more drunk than I thought,'' the other man replied sitting down. ''She is more than capable of taking care of herself, and if she were to die – the cause would not be a superstitious one.''

All Lowell could do was to give his best friend a grateful smile. His friendship and support have always had good effect on him. He took another swing of his ale, as the two female mercenaries closed the door to their bedroom upstairs. ''She is rather special, isn't she?'' he murmured softly.

''One of a kind I'd wager,'' Dagran returned the smile before his hand found it's way to his friend's shoulder. ''last time you told me about the attack which killed Amanda, but you told me there was more?''

Sadness quickly clouded Lowell's blue eyes, which was followed by a defeated sigh, ''Does nothing ever get lost inside that mind of yours?''

''Of course it does, but not things I consider interesting or important,'' came the cocky reply from the mercenary leader. His eyebrow curved upwards in a perfect arch, as he challenged his friend's observing gaze.

A calm settled over the weary ice mage, as words spilled from his lips. Dagran fell into the role of the great listener, never once interrupting. In his hazel eyes read companionship and understanding, something which Lowell felt immensely grateful for. He removed the tight lock around his memories, and let himself take a stroll back into the past.

After having lost his sweet Amanda to bandits, which he took revenge upon. He once again left for the road. He soon found himself in the lands of the north, where the vast empire greeted him. It had not taken long before he had found a job as a city guard in a medium sized town, and yet another woman crossed his path. The lovely Kassie, with her strong faith and sunny disposition. She had a way of talking a person into agreeing to all kinds of things. He still remembered her grey blue eyes, and how they lit with fierce determination when facing a challenge. In this case, the challenge itself was to win Lowell's heart: failure was never an option to her.

With his pain of loosing Amanda still fresh in mind, Lowell fought the attraction between them. But Kassie did not give up that easily. She was the daughter of the captain of the guards, so it was easy for her to arrange for him being positioned in a way that gave her easy access to him. It did not take long before they became a couple. They seemed to be made for each other, well matched in every possible way, and their time together was like heaven on earth. Just when they had reached the point that all couples eventually reach: where you want to make a life long commitment to each other. Fate once again came in between and crushed those plans.

Sickness visited their town and many fell to it: elderly, children, men and women. No one seemed to avoid it, but a lucky few. The town doctor had never seen this particular illness before, so he could not treat it properly. Kassie was one of the last people to get infected. It happened just after her father had succumbed to the fever the sickness brought. Not only had Lowell lost his friend, Kassie's father, but he also lost his love. She had fought bravely against it, and even being experimented on: with odd concoctions that did more harm than good. It was for naught, in the end: she died crying in his arms, begging for his forgiveness. She grieved not for herself, but for being too weak to do hold on. She hated herself for leaving him behind – for him to once more lose someone he loved.

He didn't even give up hope after loosing two loves of his life. He kept going, and he never faltered when trying fit in somewhere, or with someone. That hope did however diminish over time, as more death followed him wherever he went. Fear ended up replacing that hope, which was the explanation to his behaviour. He was terrified of getting close to someone again, because he feared death would come for them too. All he allowed himself was a quick, and brief relation with women. The sweet thrill of flirting and chasing skirts, which always ended when he got what he wanted.

Dagran sat silently and watched, as Lowell emptied his drink. His mind trying to puzzle together the reason for his friend's behaviour. He couldn't find anything in that sad tale, that implicated fault on Lowell's behalf. Since no words of comfort could get through his stubborn companion's mind, he decided on another strategy, ''Is that all? Many people die all the time...'' a chuckle left his smirking lips.

At first all Lowell could do was to stare, and clench his hand harder around his tankard. Anger soon began to boil underneath his controlled facade. How dare Dagran sit there and laugh, and ridicule his past, ''You think it's fun that women always die around me!?''

''It's a sad waste of women, if you ask me,'' Dagran managed to get out between laughter.

A dark look came over Lowell's face, and he crushed the tankard between his fingers, ''How dare you laugh at their deaths? They weren't just numbers in some statistics, they were people who mattered to me. People I would have gladly given my life for; however, I wasn't able to stop them from dying. I couldn't do anything for them!''

''Ah, now you've finally come to terms with it, my friend.'' said Dagran warmly, and all traces of mirth disappeared from his face. His eyes went from Lowell's shocked face, and over to Ariela's questioning ones, ''Oi! We need another round, Ariela.''

Realization washed over Lowell: like a bucket of cold water getting dumped on his head. With it came relief, which immediately chased away the anger he had felt towards his friend. Dagran had forced him to see the truth – that it was not his fault. ''You're one creepy bloke, you know that?'' he murmured softly, as a small smile formed on his lips.

''I prefer perceptive, thank you very much,'' Dagran grinned back, as he handed over the new drinks. ''Drink tonight for your past, and tomorrow you start anew.''

Lowell gratefully accepted the two tankards, and the silent respite that Dagran bestowed onto him. It did not come as a surprise when the mercenary leader moved to stand up. He had after all always been a private man; thus, also respected other's need for privacy, ''Thank you, mate.''

''Thank me when you feel better,'' Dagran replied in a hollow tone. ''Its not an easy road ahead. You will never forget them, but you have a reason to keep looking forward instead of backwards.''

Lowell merely nodded his head, and stretched out his hand toward his companion: who in return clasped his hand firmly in his. He had known Dagran for many years, but never knew him to be familiar with the matters of the heart. Several question's swirled inside his curious mind, but the sad look in his friend's eyes, stopped him from asking. Something told him that underneath Dagran's controlled demeanour lay a well kept tale which was guarded closely by a wounded heart.

The ice mage watched as his leader disappear out of the nosy tavern: all the while nursing his new drink. It may have been the alcohol's fault, but he suddenly felt free. Like something heavy had been lifted from his shoulders. He would carry his memories with him, along with his sadness, but he owed it to himself to live his life to the fullest.

His heart skipped a beat when Syrenne came waltzing down the stairs. Even though her face was set in a nasty scowl, and her eyes glared daggers all around – he still thought her to be lovely. Her whole being radiated strength, and determination. His leader was right, Syrenne could hold her own: be it from enemies or sickness. She had done so many times over the years they have known each other. He had made up his mind, he would not turn away from what slowly grew between them. One thing that's for sure though: he had a lot of making up to do. Gaining her would be the challenge of his life, and he would enjoy every step on the way. He would plant seeds where he could, while distracting her by making her mad with their usual teasing, as the seeds grow stronger.

''Oi Syrenne! Great timing, lass.'' Lowell spoke warmly, as he gestured for her to sit down. ''Care to help me finish this?''

Syrenne couldn't hide her surprise, as she slid down in the empty seat – eagerly accepting the cold beer, ''What's with the nice gesture and all? Have ye finally managed to drown that pea-brain of yours...''

''No, but I thought you were the perfect assistant for getting the job done,'' Lowell winked at her playfully. ''Joke aside, I just wanted to have a drink with my favourite partner in crime before hitting the sack.''

''Fine! I can do that...'' Syrenne grunted out, while looking down: succeeding in hiding her blush. ''Saves me coin too, since I had the same idea.''

Lowell smiled warmly at Syrenne's endearing shyness. He knew in his heart that: his decision to move on was right. He would no longer live between his past, filled with painful memories and is future. It was time to put the past where it belonged and focus on what can become his future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors notes: **Here's the last chapter!  
Thanks for following this story to the end, and thanks for the wonderful reviews!

**Disclaimer:** Mistwalker owns The Last Story and all characters. I own nothing, nor do I make any money on this story. I own this plot and any OC characters that may appear.

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_''Your soul is haunting me and telling me  
that everything is fine  
but I wish I was dead  
Everytime I close my eyes  
It's like a dark Paradise.''  
– Lana Del Ray._

**Haunting Shadows.**

The war was over and they were at the beginning of the start of their future. Lowell and Syrenne walked silently side by side. The streets were busy with people that worked on repairing the once glorious city. Neither wanted to disrupt the calm silence that had settled between them. Many things had happened the last couple of months: both sad and happy moments had been experienced.

Lowell had been in a state of confusion for a while after he was revived. He could not simply believe what had gone down with Dagran. It was hard for him to think of his best friend as a traitor. and an enemy, but he did not doubt the others word. He just believed there was more to it than they had seen, or even intercepted of the situation, but he choose to keep that to himself.

Then there was the beautiful spit-fire beside him. There had always been something between them: something both of them had fought against, but never could completely ignore. After he came back to life, her attitude towards him changed. He was thrilled to see her open to him and his advances which resulted had resulted in a few delightful moments, but he felt something was missing. It was like a cloud of worry had settled over her. He guessed she was afraid to loose him again, but that also stopped many of those glorious fights they used to have. All he wanted was for things to be as they used to, but with the added naughtiness of course.

Syrenne on the other hand enjoyed their quiet life after those long, struggling months of fighting. It was the first time in many years that she did not need to worry about her own survival. Work was steady, as were the rise of her earnings. Everything was not perfect though. She had a nasty fear of trusting her good fortune. She feared something would happen once again, or that something would befall Lowell. It was a feeling she couldn't shake, and it made her act different from her usual self.

''A drink for your thoughts?'' Lowell interrupted her musings, as they stepped into Ariela's tavern. ''Or better yet, what about a hot bath with yours truly, to remedy that troubled look?''

Syrenne stuck out her tongue and hip bumped him, ''Like I'd be that cheap, you'd best up your offer.''

Their little banter was interrupted by the sound of someone crying. Then they noticed that the tavern was remarkably empty, which they found odd since this was usually a very busy time. They found Kentis behind the counter: looking worryingly at the corner table under the stairs. That is where they found Mirania softly crying to herself, with an equally sad looking Ariela standing behind her.

''Did someone die?'' asked a worried Syrenne. Her lack of tact always present. ''Or have you run out of food, Kentis?''

Lowell who was better at reading people, nudged Syrenne sharply, ''Now is not a good time, Syrenne,'' he noted seriously, and walked up to the table. ''What's going on?''

Mirania's tear filled eyes looked up into Lowell's concerned ones, ''We were so wrong, so very wrong, Lowell...'' she breathed out while handing him a small book. It was a very quirky journal: the cover was made of oak, and rather thick too, which made it quite heavy.

''This was found amongst Dagran's things. I don't know what drove him to say what he did before we fought him, but his journal is proof of our memories with him weren't faked.'' Mirania quietly spoke through her crying.

''Then why are ye crying? I don't follow,'' Syrenne asked bewildered, her tone of voice sharper than she intended. The subject of their late leader was still a sore spot for her. ''Regardless of what's in that thing, doesn't bloody change what he did.''

Lowell who had been flipping through the pages, quickly scanning it's contests: came to the same conclusion as Mirania. The journal seemed to be half filled with short stories of Dagran's favourite memories of their adventures. The other half contained a secret compartment which held two photographs, and an old key. It was protected by a thin layer of glass, but what surprised him was the entry on the last page of the journal. His heart clenched painfully inside his chest, as he understood what caused Mirania's tears.

_May, 2_

_I am a doomed man, and have been that since I lost what was most important to me. My past is haunting me and there is no relief, because wherever I look: all I see are ghosts of people I once knew. My friends doesn't see what's wrong, and I tell them nothing, because they just want me to move on. Revenge is what keeps me holding on, and that my friends need me, so I have to be strong._

_It does not matter which situation I find myself in, I can feel you, Killian walking beside me: reassuring me that everything is fine. Though things are far from fine, and I miss your friendship. You were the only one who looked in the shadows and saw me. Nowadays you live in my memories, greeting me every time I close my eyes._

_To still love you, Rois after all this time cannot be wrong – even if you aren't here, I can't move on. How could I? When I haven't found anyone capable of stirring my heart, the way you still do. Your face won't leave my head, it's like a never ending melody: beautiful and bitter-sweet._

_Every night I go to sleep, and I'm greeted by my dark paradise. A place where memories and wishes meet, and I see you all again: my family and friends, and nothing compares to you. I never want to wake up, because I'm scared because you are not waiting on the other side. Morning comes, and echoes from you are haunting me, and reassuring me that everything is fine, but I wish I was dead._

_My new life and friends gives me a reason to move on, but I refuse to take it. In me lives a hatred so deep that it has changed my core. I live only for helping my friends get a better life, and for my own revenge. For as long as I still have breath in me – I will fight to avenge the wrongs which was committed against you all. Those responsible will pay, even if I have to commit equal wrongdoings to achieve it: That is why I remain here._

_If someone is reading this, then its because I failed and I'm probably long gone from this world. This journal was only ever meant to be a memento to me, so I could remember the good things that happened during the years I never wanted. If I am indeed dead, it still serves a purpose and that is for my friends to know that I cherished the time we had together. All I ever did, the good and the bad, was for a chance to set things right again – not just for me, but for you all._

''So...Dagran had a girl in the past?'' Syrenne noted, still a bit confused. ''How does that explain anything? Lowell had plenty girls he lost, he didn't go mental because of it.''

''You are right, but it explains some of his actions,'' Mirania softly defended their late friend. ''It sheds light on his fixation on his past.''

Lowell never heard their comments: his focus was on the book in hands. His eyes softened as he looked down on one of photographs. It showed a Dagran he'd never known: a carefree, happy, and loving young man. There was no mistaking the love shining in his friend's eyes, as he gazed down on the young woman having her arm around him. Nor did the look of possession on the young girl's face get past Lowell. If those weren't good enough clues: the knowing smile on the unknown man's face spoke for it self, as he seemed to playfully pull the girl away from Dagran.

''The name 'Sleepy Grove' on the sign behind them must be his home village's name...'' Lowell stated calmly.

''Who's the two fairytale-creatures?'' Syrenne said pointing to the two unknown people. ''Ye think they might be siblings?''

Both Lowell and Mirania blinked at her words. Not because they were wrong, but because she had a point. On closer inspection, both looked like fae-folk: the died out race from ancient times. Now only featured in fairytale books. The girl's long crimson hair looked like flowing blood, and her warm brown eyes shone of adoration that was out of this world. The young man shared her warm brown eyes, while his shone of kindness that probably could melt anyone's heart. His hair was deep blue, and a oddly shaped scar adorned his cheek.

''They might be related to the guardians!'' Mirania exclaimed rather excitingly, and continued her digging into Dagran's old leather satchel. She came across a locket which contained two small hair locks, of the same colors as the two people in the photo. Her eyes closed in concentration as she used her magic to detect any sign of power from the locket. ''The guardian who raised me could transform into human shape, but he also looked like a fae. I'm positive these two are related somehow.''

Syrenne who just finished reading the short journal entry quietly observed her lover. Her heart started to beat wildly from seeing such determination in his blue eyes. Something was going to happen, she could read it in his eyes. Uncontrolled anger, and resentment against her late leader suddenly surged through her because she knew finding these things had triggered something. All she wanted was to bury Dagran and what had happened in the past, and to start afresh, ''So what? Why should we give a crap? I'd say it's best to put those away and forget you ever found them. Remember what happened the last time we got involved in Dagran's personal mess.''

''I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, love...'' Lowell calmly noted as he placed the book carefully on the table. ''If something is to be learned from him, it's to make peace with your past.''

''That might be the case, but it changes nothing.'' Syrenne spoke coldly, and turned her back to them. ''I'm ain't going to obsess over the past, but I will never forgive him for what happened...''

''Syrenne...'' Mirania murmured sadly, while carefully slipping the locket back into the satchel. ''I remember it just as well as you, but I've decided to forgive rather than to hold a grudge. There are no excusing what he did, it was wrong, but he also did many good things in life.''

''But that doesn't bloody erase what he did!'' Syrenne angrily responded. ''Because of him many lost their lives, and his good deeds can't fucking make that okay!''

''I've come to a decision,'' Lowell announced, and completely put an end to their squabble. He steeled himself for the reaction his statement would cause. He sought Syrenne's gaze and held it steadily while sharing what he had decided. ''I'm going to travel to Sleepy Grove. If someone from Dagran's past is alive, they deserve to know what happened to him, and I wish to settle my own past as well.''

''I agree,'' Mirania concurred softly, drawing a gasp from Ariela, who'd had remained silent the whole time. ''We owe at least that much to Dagran and I'm going to find answers about the guardians and their connection the two people in the photo.

''What? No!'' Syrenne shouted in outrage. ''Leave that damned sod and your past where it belongs! I bloody thought we had settled the matter of your past life!''

''I'm doing this for us, can't you see that?'' Lowell spoke seriously, and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, ''It's the only way for us to move on, without any shadows following us wherever we go.''

''No you ain't! Yer running away again, aren't you?'' Syrenne countered fervently, with tears forming at the corner of her eyes. ''You've had yer little fun, is that it? Be man enough to admit it!''

''Syrenne, that's enough!'' Mirania arose from her chair abruptly: making it skit backwards into the wall. Her blue eyes darkening dangerously, as she glared at her best friend, ''Stop being such a baby, and act your age – for once.''

Lowell sadly shook his head, making their healer go with Ariela to the bar. He looked down into Syrenne's semi-shocked face, ''Considering my past...I can't really blame you for thinking that. I do promise that I will come back to you. This is just something I need to do, and this is also the only way for us to be able to buy this tavern when Kentis moves back to the Empire.''

Syrenne ran his words inside her mind: trying to calm herself down. She remembered him telling her about his past life as a nobleman's son. How dangerous his family could be, and she understood that her going with him would only complicate things. She still hated the fact that Dagran still managed to influence their lives, but no matter how hard she tried – she agreed that his relatives deserved to know what happened, if they were still alive.

''One year,'' she stated seriously, while gazing up into her lover's face. ''I'll wait one year for you, and I will stay here learning the ropes from Ariela, so prove me wrong by keeping that bloody promise...''

Lowell's serious countenance transformed when his trademark smile formed on his lips. He drew Syrenne closer, and completely enveloping her in his arms, and his chin came to rest on top of her head. ''That's the easiest promise to keep, lass, Because there is no one else I'd like to return to than you.'' he whispered before sealing his promise with a kiss.

* * *

Epilogue:

Two long years have passed since their promise, and the time gone by has been far from uneventful. Lowell's adventure had turned out to be much more than to settle his past. There have been times where Syrenne had lost all hope, but now she stood in her very own tavern. She was humming cheerfully on a popular tune, while preparing food for the coming customers.

''All the rooms have been cleaned, how goes the cooking?'' Lowell's voice rang from upstairs, making a grin form on her lips. ''Do you need me to do something, deary?''

Syrenne's grin widened while she thought up a reply. Though she waited until he was in the middle of the staircase before firing her first round,'' I'd like a bun in the oven as Mirania, so would you mind going on stork watch from now on?''

''Sure thing I-What!?'' Lowell started, but ended up stumbling down the stairs in the middle of the sentence. He landed in a ungraceful heap on the floor: his mouth hanging open, and his eyes wide as he started dumbfounded at his girlfriend.

''Now there's an interesting position,'' Syrenne spoke through fits of laughter, ''I like your imagination, I have to say...''

Lowell quickly recovered from his shock, and wasted no time in countering with a round of his own. He delivered the most sensual gaze he could muster, while deliberately letting his eyes wonder across her curves. He chuckled when she flushed bright red when he let his shirt drop to the clean floor. It did not take him long to close the distance between them, and press his lips to the sensitive spot beneath her ear: coaxing forth delicious gaps while his fingers unbuttoned her blouse.  
''I'll do more than just stand watch,'' he whispered huskily into her ear, loving every shiver he felt go through her body. ''I make sure to deliver exactly what you ordered, my lovely Syrenne.''

**Thus concludes the story of Troubled Souls. The story about the missing two years, remains untold; although, people, unlike written books, do tend to spread their tales, but as of now it remains a mystery...**


End file.
